Chapter 334: Testing One's Hand to Mend Heaven and Earth

Compared to matchlock muskets, flintlock muskets could withstand light rain, but even in a drizzle the firing rate dropped drastically, and in heavy rain they were completely impossible to fire. Sure enough, after Zhang Yingjing's single shout, the Xia army's positions in the distance gradually fell silent.

Boom!

Another muffled thunderclap, and the rain fell harder and harder, soaking the entire wilderness in an instant.

At that moment, a young novice monk's voice came from the base of the pagoda: "Two benefactors, thunderstorm is here, we must seal the pagoda!"

"No matter!" said Zhang Xianyong. Without any visible effort of shouting, his voice carried with tremendous vigor, extremely resonant.

The young novice said: "Benefactor, come down quickly, thunderstorm weather is too dangerous."

Zhang Yingjing fended him off with a few more words, but the young novice kept urging.

Zhang Xianyong's mind, however, was entirely on the battle outside the city. He saw that after the square formation fell silent, the Spade-Flat Army's morale soared, and they gathered around the Xia army's position with shouts of killing. The Xia army, meanwhile, dispersed its square formation, reorganized into a line, and then charged straight down like a fierce tiger descending the mountain. The front-rank soldiers leveled their bayonets, cold light glinting, like a veritable forest of spears.

Not only Zhang Xianyong and his son, but even the Spade-Flat Army was taken aback. The crow-blue square formation slammed hard into the Spade-Flat Army's ranks, and piercing screams immediately rang out. Where the two forces met, countless bodies fell in an instant, blood splattering everywhere.

Within a brief moment, the entire Spade-Flat Army turned and fled, and then the whole battle line collapsed. Even units that had not yet engaged the enemy fled along with the rest. The Xia army's square formation, as if blood-maddened, pursued and slaughtered without pause, running so fast that even their own formation scattered.

Several hundred men ran toward Fuliang County. From atop the high pagoda, it became increasingly clear: the pursuing Xia soldiers numbered fewer than ten, while the fleeing Spade-Flat Army numbered in the hundreds, yet they could not muster a single spark of resistance — like a flock of sheep chased by a wild wolf.

The young novice monk was still earnestly pleading: "Benefactor, come down, please come down! Listen to this thunder — if it strikes the pagoda, that would be terrible." "Noisy!" Zhang Xianyong said with impatience, taking a small pouch of silver dollars from his bosom and telling his son to deliver it to the novice below.

Zhang Yingjing took it and went downstairs. A moment later, the novice's voice came: "No, no, this poor monk does not want the benefactor's money, I only ask that the benefactor... Ah! Benefactor, don't go back up! You haven't taken your silver with you!"

Zhang Yingjing raced back up the pagoda with long strides, afraid of missing the good show.

He saw that the Spade-Flat Army troops were crashing about like headless flies, and had actually run to the edge of the county town. The defenders on the city wall were all on high alert. Seeing city walls ahead and pursuers behind, with no route of escape, the Spade-Flat Army soldiers actually all laid down their weapons and surrendered.

"Kneel! Hands on your heads!" the Xia soldiers who had followed shouted.

The several hundred Spade-Flat Army soldiers did as told, throwing down their bamboo spears, sickles, and other weapons, kneeling in the mud and rain.

The Xia soldiers produced ropes and expertly bound the prisoners.

The capture of prisoners took place right at the edge of Fuliang County's city wall, yet the Ming troops on the wall showed no reaction whatsoever. A guard station Centurion even patrolled continuously, strictly forbidding soldiers from touching their bows and crossbows.

At that moment, the young novice monk also ran breathlessly up to the top of the pagoda, still holding Zhang Xianyong's pouch of money. After returning it, he saw the scene below the city wall and froze as well. After a long while, he asked: "Did the bad people win, or did the good people win?"

Zhang Xianyong could not answer. Zhang Yingjing, however, said with certainty: "The good people won."

The novice said: "Amitabha, that's good then. You two benefactors, please leave the pagoda now."

Zhang Yingjing said impatiently: "Little master, you are quite the nag."

The novice said with a solemn expression: "The pagoda is dangerous in thunderstorm weather. This humble monk has a duty to guard the pagoda and cannot take it lightly."

Zhang Xianyong cast a glance over the wilderness. Spade-Flat Army soldiers covered the mountains and fields, with Xia soldiers scattered among them, having completely abandoned any notion of formation or tactics, catching the Spade-Flat Army like wild boars.

Since the outcome was already decided, there was no need to watch further. He nodded and went downstairs together with the novice.

The novice let out a long breath of relief and led the way.

While descending, Zhang Xianyong could not help asking curiously: "Little master, do you know which two armies are fighting outside the city?"

The novice shook his head.

Zhang Xianyong smiled: "Then how does the little master know there must be good people among them?"

The novice was stunned for a moment, then said with slight fluster: "Ah! I thought... I thought the Great Xia army was outside the city. So they're not?"

Zhang Xianyong said: "They are."

The novice sighed in relief: "That's good, that's good."

Zhang Xianyong pressed on: "How do you know the Great Xia army must be the good people?"

The novice said happily: "The Great Xia army has done so many good deeds, they must be good people! Traveling pilgrims said that after the Great Xia army entered the cities, they did not lodge in people's homes and did not harm the common folk in the slightest. When they were in Raozhou city, they even helped the people harvest their crops! A man like the Xia King — even if he doesn't believe in the Buddha, the Buddha will surely protect him!"

Zhang Xianyong asked again: "Are those who do good deeds necessarily good people?"

The novice was stumped by the question. After pondering for a long while, he said solemnly: "My master said, doing good when the times are smooth is not necessarily true goodness; holding to goodness when the times are adverse is the real thing. I heard from the pilgrims that during the Ganzhou battle, the imperial army pushed civilians to the front to fill the ditches, but the Xia army would rather let the ditches be filled than fire a single shot at the people. They must be good people beyond any doubt!"

Zhang Xianyong was already lost in thought. By now they had reached the base of the pagoda. He clasped his hands and said: "Thank you for your instruction, little master. Today this poor Daoist acted willfully and caused you trouble."

The novice waved his hand: "No trouble, no trouble... Ah! You're a Daoist priest?"

Zhang Xianyong laughed heartily and left with his son.

On the road, Zhang Xianyong said: "Once the city gates open, you will go on my behalf to pay respects to the Xia army's commanders. Do you know what to say?"

Zhang Yingjing said: "Heavenly Master, rest assured. Your disciple understands."

The Heavenly Master's Residence on Dragon Tiger Mountain held an exalted and detached status. Before the Great Xia had taken the realm, they would not easily pledge allegiance. This visit was merely an initial contact. The two walked slowly back to the inn. Just as they entered the main gate, they heard someone outside shout loudly: "The County Magistrate has surrendered! Everyone can leave the city now."

Zhang Xianyong and his son exchanged a glance, walked out to the main street to look, and indeed saw from afar that the city gates were wide open, with common folk coming and going unhindered.

A dozen or so Xia soldiers walked into the city. Atop the city wall, the Ming sun-and-moon flame banner was lowered, replaced by the Great Xia's dark-red shield-and-halberd banner.

Not every Ming County Magistrate would fight to the death and die for his country.

For the Fuliang County Magistrate: externally, the court had no relief troops, the post of Jiangxi Governor-General sat vacant, even the provincial capital and prefectural seats had fallen, and Prince Huai himself was dead — Jiangxi falling to the Great Xia was the tide of the times. He was merely a small County Magistrate with a monthly salary of no more than eight or nine taels of silver — why should he throw his life away? Internally, he had only two hundred-odd guard station soldiers utterly devoid of morale, and in the city, both soldiers and civilians alike favored the Great Xia. What did he have to resist with? Could his single surge of hot blood scald a few soldiers to death?

Add to that the battle between the Great Xia army and the Spade-Flat Army outside the city — it was far too shocking.

Fewer than two hundred Xia soldiers, in the rain, relying on bayonet combat alone, had broken several thousand Spade-Flat Army troops, capturing more prisoners than their own numbers.

The Fuliang County Magistrate had only heard before that the Xia army was strong; he never imagined they could be this strong. So what was there left to fight?

The city gates had opened late — who knew if his little life was still intact? Thus, at the very first moment the battle outside ended, the Magistrate sent someone to inform the Xia army outside the city, then immediately opened the gates and surrendered.

When the Magistrate's officers, clerks, and runners learned that their lord intended to surrender, not a single one stepped forward to oppose it. Instead, they all praised the Magistrate's wisdom, and so the matter was settled with great smoothness.

Even more astonished than Zhang Xianyong and his son was Li Jingshuo, squad leader of the sharp-sentinel banner company in the First Battalion, First Company of the Great Xia army.

After dealing with Prince Huai of Raozhou, the army advanced toward Fuliang County. His sharp-sentinel banner company was placed at the very front to scout for the Spade-Flat Army's movements. Unexpectedly, they happened upon several thousand Spade-Flat Army troops streaming southwest through Fuliang County.

The new army had no cavalry. If the enemy truly slipped away, they could never catch up. Thus Li Jingshuo made a snap decision, forming a square formation to delay the enemy. But then the thunderstorm hit, and they found themselves surrounded on all sides.

In the desperate situation, Li Jingshuo led the charge himself. His men were the most elite soldiers of the Great Xia's new army, while most of the Spade-Flat King's men were freshly pressed laborers — nothing but a rabble.

The gap in strength between the two sides was greater than that between a man and a gorilla. When firing muskets at long range, the Spade-Flat Army's casualties were light and they could still hold. But one single charge broke them instantly — one man fled, and the whole army fled along with him.

Since Li Jingshuo had joined the army, he had always fought against the Ming army's scout cavalry and Night Scouts — also elite Ming troops. Elite against elite had skewed his perception of strength, and he had always felt his own men were not much stronger than the Ming troops.

Facing the Spade-Flat Army's flight, he was actually more astonished than the Spade-Flat King himself — and then he let loose in pursuit.

By the time the Spade-Flat Army had been hunted down to near extinction, Fuliang County had also surrendered.

His mission had originally been to gather intelligence, yet unexpectedly he had wiped out the Leveling Army, taken the city as a bonus, and only when Zhang Yingjing came to see him did he learn that the charlatan "Immortal Zhang" had also been captured—three birds with one stone, and he felt as if he were dreaming.

A few days later, Lin Qian was inspecting snail fever prevention efforts in Hukou County.

The last time he had come to Hukou County was over half a year ago, when the Nan'ao Navy had just routed Yuan Chonghuan, the Ming naval forces were completely lost, the Jiangxi land army was still at full strength, and the two sides were still locked in a stalemate beneath the walls of Ganzhou.

He had not expected that upon this return, nearly the entire territory of Jiangxi would already have been taken.

Half a year ago, when he had left Jiangxi along the Yangtze, he had told a little girl that once Great Xia came, it would not leave again—and at last he had not broken his word.

As he was walking along the lakeshore, a personal guard handed him a battle report from Fuliang County. After reading it, Lin Qian joked to those around him: "Fuliang County voluntarily opened its gates and surrendered, without smashing a single pot or jar in Jingdezhen—good news indeed."

As he spoke, he passed the report around. After Xu Fengjie read it, he said: "This Li Jingshuo is a lucky general."

Song Danchu said: "This man's military achievements are outstanding; perhaps he deserves a promotion at our discretion."

By rights, the promotion of an officer of Li Jingshuo's rank should not have required the attention of the Minister of the Army—it was simply that the battle report was too dazzling.

Setting aside Fuliang County's troop strength, fortifications, and population, and setting aside the number of killed and wounded—

In this single battle, nearly a thousand prisoners from the Leveling Army alone were captured, ten times the size of its entire banner force.

If not for the fact that the new army had no warhorses, allowing the Leveling King Chen Ping'an to escape, this entire contingent of the Leveling Army might have been hunted down to the last man.

Lin Qian walked as he spoke: "That so-called Heavenly Master mentioned in the report—what's that all about?"

Bai Qing said: "Zhang Xianyong—he is the current Heavenly Master of Mount Longhu. This man is charitable and generous, and enjoys great popular support. The common folk of northern Jiangxi, especially the two prefectures of Fuzhou and Guangxin, regard him as a second father."

Lin Qian kept his head down as he walked, and upon hearing this said: "Is it really that exaggerated? Mind you don't step in a puddle."

Bai Qing nimbly leaped over a stagnant pool, nodding: "Whenever there is a famine in the region, this man spontaneously provides relief to the victims; when plague strikes, he leads his disciples down the mountain to treat the sick. He truly counts as a good Heavenly Master."

Bai Qing had been stationed at Poyang Lake for over half a year and knew the situation in northern Jiangxi very well. He then briefly introduced Mount Longhu's reputation among the people, as well as the circumstances of its succession.

In short, the Heavenly Master of Mount Longhu had been passed down through the Zhang lineage to this day, and their worldly wealth and power were now no different from those of ordinary nobles—roughly somewhere between a great landowner and a Prince.

Of course, successive Heavenly Masters had been both good and bad; coincidentally, Zhang Xianyong and his father happened to be among those of better virtue.

Lin Qian could not help but laugh: "The Prince of Huai and the Prince of Yi are virtuous princes, and Zhang Xianyong is also a good Heavenly Master—Jiangxi truly is a land of outstanding people and blessed spirits!" Bai Qing suddenly recalled something: "By the way, 'Heavenly Master' is merely the folk appellation; the Ming court only permits him to be called 'Perfected One.'"

Lin Qian smiled: "Heavenly Master or Perfected One, whatever—that Zhang Yingjing, tell him to come see me."

A personal guard said: "Your Majesty, Daoist Zhang is already waiting outside the military camp."

Lin Qian was slightly taken aback: "He's certainly eager. But that's fine—we can make use of him and his father for the snail eradication. Bring him in."

An hour later, Zhang Yingjing arrived at the lakeshore and was stopped from a good distance away.

Two personal guards tossed him a pair of leg wrappings and a bucket of tung oil.

"Ahead is the epidemic zone. Bind your ankles and calves, apply the tung oil, and only then may you proceed."

Zhang Yingjing followed the orders, while probing: "May I ask what sort of epidemic this is?"

"Spider gu."

Zhang Yingjing found this strange, thinking to himself that spider gu only struck near water—why didn't the Xia King simply avoid the area, and why arrange the meeting in the epidemic zone of all places?

After he finished tying the leg wrappings, he had the guards brush tung oil over his legs and feet. Before long it dried, and the boiled tung oil hardened, like a shell encasing his limbs—most uncomfortable.

Seeing that the tung oil had dried, the guard led him inside.

As Zhang Yingjing walked all the way toward the lakeshore, he found it increasingly bizarre. How could the Xia King, with his exalted status, possibly come to such a dangerous place?

Could it be that these soldiers were deceiving him?

Zhang Yingjing looked around without changing his expression—the guard leading him wore the crow-blue uniform that was the hallmark of the Xia army.

Crow-blue was nearly the cheapest of all colors to dye, and common folk wore crow-blue clothing in abundance.

Military uniforms were easy to counterfeit, though that rifle looked like the real thing.

Could it be that the Xia King intended to take his life?

Lost in wild speculation, Zhang Yingjing was led to the river beach, where the guard said: "Mind your step—don't tread in the epidemic water."

Zhang Yingjing looked down and saw clear signs of burning on the ground. The lakeshore had also been tidied up, with numerous drainage ditches dug, few puddles remaining, and white lime scattered in many places.

He followed the guard forward, and before long saw a group of people waiting ahead. The one at the head was of medium build, wearing an ordinary crow-blue uniform, looking quite unremarkable from afar—but his pair of sabre-shaped brows and phoenix eyes shone with brilliance, sharp and fierce, extraordinarily distinguished. This must surely be the Xia King. Zhang Yingjing stepped forward and made a Daoist bow: "This humble priest, Zhang Yingjing, by the command of my father, the Great Perfected One of Orthodox Unity, Overseer of All Daoist Affairs Under Heaven, the Hermit of Yuwu, respectfully inquires after the Xia King's well-being."

Lin Qian said flatly: "Does that business in Fuliang County have anything to do with you and your father?"

Zhang Yingjing's heart tightened. He hastily explained the whole sequence of events and assured him: "The Heavenly Master's Mansion will henceforth strictly guard its gates—nothing of this sort will ever happen again." Lin Qian said: "When Great Xia took Zhoushan, we beheaded all the fraudulent monks on Mount Putuo who swindled people's money, and after that the coastal customs of Zhoushan were cleansed in one stroke. Now Zhang Xianyao spreads heresy and poisons children—how do you and your father intend to deal with this?"

A light sweat broke out on Zhang Yingjing's forehead. The Xia King's words sounded like a question, but in truth the verdict had already been rendered. He could only steel himself and say: "This humble priest will urge my father to hand Zhang Xianyao over to the authorities."

"Mm." Lin Qian made no further comment, then turned and continued walking along the lakeshore.

Zhang Yingjing followed closely behind, feeling that this meeting was utterly different from what he had imagined.

Back when the Grand Progenitor Emperor was still the Prince of Wu, he had taken the initiative to write to Mount Longhu, asking the Heavenly Master to "present words to Heaven" on his behalf—to plead his case before Heaven and pray for the Mandate of Heaven—in an extremely courteous tone.

The Heavenly Master bestowed upon him the talisman of "the Mandate of Heaven has its destined home," and the Grand Progenitor Emperor was overjoyed. Thereafter he treated Mount Longhu with even greater favor, praising the Heavenly Master as "with eyes that turn like the pivot of thunder and a bearing of majestic countenance," and granting all manner of privileges and rewards.

How the Grand Progenitor Emperor cooled toward Mount Longhu after he had firmly secured the realm is another matter. But now, at another turning point between two dynasties, the Heavenly Master's Mansion had taken the initiative to approach the Xia King—how could it instead receive cold words and harsh questioning?

With the Xia King's strategic brilliance, could he truly not know how much influence a single word from the Heavenly Master carried?

The group walked on, with the Xia King keeping his head down at the ground the whole way, occasionally poking at puddles with a wooden stick, leaving Zhang Yingjing utterly bewildered.

Emerging from a stretch of reeds, the view ahead opened up, and from far away one could see crowds of people packed along the lakeshore, all squatting down as if digging for lake delicacies. Zhang Yingjing could no longer contain his curiosity and asked: "Are they catching crabs?"

Lin Qian corrected him: "They're catching oncomelania snails."

"You can't eat those—what are they catching them for?" Zhang Yingjing asked in wonder.

Lin Qian explained the relationship between schistosomiasis and the oncomelania snail.

Zhang Yingjing listened, dumbfounded. After a moment he frowned and said: "What the Xia King says... is there any proof?"

Lin Qian said: "That's simple. Geng Wu, catch me a diseased animal."

A little over half an hour later, a big-bellied ram was led over by Geng Wu. Lin Qian said: "These little worms typically parasitize the liver and intestines of humans and livestock. Dissect this animal and you'll see at once."

Geng Wu had already made his cut with practiced ease, splitting open the diseased sheep's belly and removing the liver and intestinal membranes—and sure enough, the surfaces were covered with masses of hair-thin worms, red and white intermingled, writhing beneath the flesh.

Even those accustomed to gore could not help breaking out in goosebumps at this gruesome sight.

Lin Qian said: "The eggs should be in the intestines."

Zhang Yingjing hurriedly called for a stop, suppressing his nausea as he said, "Wait, I, this poor Daoist, believe—"

Lin Qian pointed at the lakeshore and said, "To eliminate the oncomelania snails, there are many methods—controlling water and manure, raising chickens and ducks, setting fires, applying poisons—but all of them require people. Someone must do the work, and where the snails gather, people must go and pick them up by hand."

Oncomelania snails were barely larger than grains of rice—Zhang Yingjing had seen them before—and upon hearing this he was taken aback: "Pick them up by hand? How could they possibly be picked clean?" Lin Qian said, "Oncomelania snails only gather in places with weeds, mud, and slow-moving water, and they move very slowly, usually clustering in nests. It's not as hard to pick them as you imagine.

The key is having people—you must mobilize the common folk and make everyone aware of the snail's harm.

Since the Celestial Master's Mansion on Dragon-Tiger Mountain holds such influence among the people, use your sway to spread awareness of the snail's dangers and seek methods of control. Let me say this plainly upfront: you are not permitted to exploit this by selling talismans or immortal pills to line your pockets, nor to fabricate tales of gods and monsters, nor to fool the people with charlatan tricks. Otherwise, Zhang Xianyao's fate today will be your sect's fate tomorrow."

Zhang Yingjing clasped his hands in acknowledgment and waited quietly for Lin Qian to continue, but to his surprise, after finishing his words, Lin Qian simply walked on without the slightest hesitation.

Geng Wu stepped forward to see the guest off: "Daoist Zhang, please return."

Zhang Yingjing wore a bewildered expression, and even after being escorted off the lakeshore, he felt there were words left unsaid, as if a fishbone were stuck in his throat.

According to his original plan, this meeting should have seen the Xia King lavish praise on the Orthodox One Sect's long and unbroken lineage, then beseech the Celestial Master to draw talismans and bestow blessings.

He would adopt the air of a transcendent master, reluctantly agree, and then admonish the Xia King to treat his people well—for one who wins the people's hearts wins the realm.

Next, the Xia King might inquire about the Huang-Lao arts of nurturing life, and he would impart some body-training methods like the Eight Section Brocade, then solemnly warn that the pursuit of longevity and the Dao was but a dreamlike illusion, not the proper concern of a sovereign.

Finally, the two would part with a wave like old friends of many years—that would have been the proper course.

But what actually happened? The meeting never settled whether the Orthodox One Sect's leader should be called Celestial Master or Perfected Person, never addressed whether Great Xia had inherited the Mandate of Heaven, never asked for the Celestial Master's blessing—instead, most of the time was spent discussing oncomelania snails, and he even slaughtered a diseased sheep right in front of him?

Recalling the look of that diseased sheep, Zhang Yingjing still felt goosebumps rising all over his body.

He rode a fast horse all the way back to Fuliang County.

When Zhang Xianyong saw him, he asked calmly, "How was it? Is the Xia King a worthy sovereign?"

A bewildered look spread across Zhang Yingjing's face. After thinking for a long while, he said, "If you call him a worthy sovereign, the Xia King is unlike the worthy sovereigns in storybooks.

But if you say he is not—at the very least, the people of Poyang Lake are in for good fortune.

Also, to preserve the Dragon-Tiger Mountain lineage's orthodox transmission, Uncle-Master Zhang Xianyao should still be handed over to the authorities."

Lin Qian stayed in Hukou County for several days, then took a boat back to Nanchang. Just before boarding, he received a report of victory from Huang Hetai: the two prefectures of Jianchang and Guangxin had been completely taken, and Prince Yi had been captured alive.

With this, all fighting east of Poyang Lake, at the border region between Fujian and Jiangxi, had come to an end.

Lin Qian asked for the battle report and saw that losses were very light—most cities in the two prefectures had surrendered after being besieged. Though they had all been smooth victories, it was still commendably steady. He said to Xu Fengjie, "Commander Huang fought well. The General Staff and the Army Ministry must record his merits."

Xu Fengjie stood at attention and said, "Helmsman, I've already discussed it with the Army Ministry—once the Jiangxi campaign ends, both sides will send men to form a merit-evaluation committee to assess the contributions of the soldiers in the Jiangxi campaign."

Lin Qian nodded, boarded the ship, and stood on the deck of the Zhangzhou. Stretching for hundreds of li along both shores of Poyang Lake were vast reed marshes. In the early autumn season, the bases of the reeds were still green while the tassels had turned yellow—looking out, it seemed like a hazy silver frost spreading across a field of blue-green.

A lake breeze swept past, and the myriad acres of reeds rippled in layered waves, like the surface of water stirred by wind.

The western shore of Poyang Lake, which had been burned to a charred black less than a year ago, was now covered anew by thick reed marshes, with not a trace of the flames of war from that time visible.

On the ship's deck, Lin Qian said to Bai Qing, "The Jiangxi campaign has reached a pause. Hand over your duties to Luo Dagu—he will continue the garrison. Set a date for yourself to return to Nan'ao Island.

The Jiangnan navy has been completely wiped out, and the Yahat ships have all sailed back. Along the Yangtze, only the Sea Wolf ships need remain."

Bai Qing acknowledged the order.

That evening, Lin Qian and his party arrived in Nanchang, and Lei Sanxiang's battle report also arrived: Ruizhou, Jiujiang, Nankang, Ningzhou, and other places had been successively taken. The Ming court no longer held a single prefecture or county in Jiangxi, nor a single soldier. From then on, Jiangxi was under Great Xia's rule.

Lin Qian rode toward the camp outside the city, and as he went, he instructed Xu and Song: "Once the fighting is over, determine the garrison roster and the return routes as soon as possible.

The garrison troops should be drawn as much as possible from Ma's and Huang's forces. By the way, how many prisoners have we captured in total?"

Xu Fengjie did some mental arithmetic and said, "Over twenty thousand in total, most held in Ganzhou, with others scattered across the other prefectures and counties."

Lin Qian said, "These people must be properly screened. The promising ones will replenish our ranks; the rest should be given travel money and sent home."

Zheng Zhilong interjected, "What about the Zhejiang soldiers?"

Lin Qian said, "During the Ganzhou rebellion, the Zhejiang soldiers showed good discipline, carrying the legacy of General Qi. Don't treat them harshly—use those who can be used, and those who can't should do labor. We'll decide after we take Zhejiang.

Also, any officers who performed well in the Jiangxi campaign and deserve promotion should be prioritized for transfer to the Seventh Division."

"Yes!" Xu and Song acknowledged the orders together.

As they were speaking, Lin Qian had already arrived at the camp. From a distance he could see soldiers packed around the center of the camp in a sea of people—at least a thousand of them—all holding their breath in complete silence.

In the center of the clearing, Liu Jingting was imitating a Mongol's voice, rasping: "I have roamed the world all my life and destroyed countless nations—am I a hero or not?"

Then Liu Jingting shifted to a grief-stricken yet simple voice: "Guo Jing said: 'In my view, killing many people does not necessarily make one a hero. A true hero must be one who aids the world, brings peace to the people, and bestows grace upon all living beings.'"

Liu Jingting switched to a narrator's voice: "Genghis Khan fell silent for a long time, and that very night he passed away within his golden tent.

Guo and Huang paid their respects to the Great Khan's remains, then took their leave of Tolui and headed south that very day.

Along the way they saw bleached skulls and bones scattered among the tall grass, and they thought of how the Mongol army was eyeing the grasslands hungrily, poised to sweep south at any moment, while the Song court indulged in leisure and martial sloth—the realm was on the verge of collapse, and they could not help but feel deeply worried.

One day the two passed by the Yangtze and saw a fleet sailing toward them from afar.

It turned out that Lu Chengfeng, having learned the Mongols were about to march south, had led the heroes of Jiangnan to come and assist. Their ships were all large multi-decked vessels, each carrying dozens of cannons—no matter how mighty the Mongol cavalry, they were no match for stout ships and great guns...

After several more days of travel, Hong Qigong and Huang Yaoshi also arrived to lend their aid..."

Lin Qian listened in a daze. His plagiarized ending of The Legend of the Condor Heroes had originally been about Guo Jing and his wife alone defending Xiangyang, with a long road ahead and no telling how many hardships and dangers awaited.

But Liu Jingting had changed it into a tale of the realm's heroes uniting as one, rallying beneath the great banner of Guo the Hero's love of country and home—one could say the five continents shook with gathered wind and thunder, daring to make sun and moon shine in a new sky.

The momentum, the theme, the tone—all of it was suddenly completely different.

Especially how the plot mirrored Great Xia's own situation with extreme similarity. The most heavily altered character was Lu Chengfeng—in the story he had originally been nothing more than background. But in Liu Jingting's telling, he was transformed into a master shipbuilder who stubbornly built a sailing fleet on Lake Tai, paying no heed to whether it made any sense. Lin Qian looked at the soldiers—all of them were watching without blinking, some murmuring praise under their breath, others red-faced with clenched fists, as if they wished they could charge into the story themselves and fight the Mongols.

Changed this way, from a literary standpoint, it was a sorry sequel tacked onto a masterpiece.

But for boosting army morale, it was a stroke of genius.

Just then, Liu Jingting reached the climax of the heroes gathering at Xiangyang, and recited with rhythmic cadence:

"Thus it is: Mount Hua's thousand-span cold snow, the jianghu's single heart of red.

Heroes draw their swords, spirit like clouds—they will not let the northern horsemen invade.

Say not that passes and rivers are cut off—behold, united wills condense into soul.

Above Xiangyang's walls the red banners unfurl—testing their hands to mend heaven and earth."

"Slap!" The storytelling block struck the table.

"If you wish to know what happens next, listen to the next installment!"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen